The Hatred of Raoul or The Revenge of the Fop
by George Smillie
Summary: COMPLETED!!!! Raoul has taken enough abuse, and has gone insane, reeking revenge upon the opera house (SWEARING!)
1. The Curse of a Terrible start

My First Phanfic  
  
Please have mercy  
  
The Hatred of Raoul  
  
George Smillie  
  
CHAPTER ONE: THE CURSE OF A TERRIBLE BEGINNING  
  
"Wonderful Christine." Erik clapped his hands together silently from Box 5. He yawned softly, observing her and the rest of the dancers from his spot. He hadn't slept for days, and he wouldn't be too upset when this damned opera was finished. Although she was a beautiful singer, she could try Erik's patience, and had been doing so even more than usual since rehearsals for the Opera House's performance of 'The Marriage of Figaro.' Again Erik yawned. Erik wasn't exactly Mozart's number one fan. "Why wont Mozart just stay dead?"  
  
"Dancers, crap as expected. I want to see some improvement. Christine . . . reasonable, but something is missing. Something seems to be troubling you girl." Madame Giry tapped her cane on the stage to catch Christine's attention. "What's wrong dear? You seem worried." Christine shuffled her feet nervously and twirled a lock of brown hair around her finger. "It's that Carlotta bitch isn't it? That evil toad! She should be shot I say! Shot! I always said that that woman was bad ne-" "Madame Giry it's not that. Please calm down." Giry stared at Christine. "Then what is it? It's not that awful Phantom bastard is it- cause if it-" "Please Madame shut up!" Giry made an odd noise, sort of like a cross between a duck and a cheep hooker with soars on his face. "I beg your pardon?" Christine rolled her eyes. "Never mind." And with that, she grabbed Giry's cane, and pushed her over onto the floor. "Stupid goat. No . . . what was it that Erik said? Stupid horsie? Oooh I do so love horsies! Maybe Erik will buy me one!" She bounced of stage and headed for Box 5.  
  
Erik sighed. He had watched the entire conversation, and had been impressed by Christine's accomplishment of 'semi' complicated sentences, up until the 'horsie' part. She was beautiful, but she was indeed, an airhead. Before Erik could continue, the Box doors burst open. Without turning around Erik said calmly, "welcome Christine." Christine pulled a face. "I was hoping I had scared you." Erik rolled his eyes. "My love, I have had my face massacred, been hunted by murderous mobs, and have seen Raoul face to face. I fear that you may not be able to accomplish your extravagant target of filling my already dark soul with fear simply by banging on a door and im sorry I had to say that it was not meant in that sense at all my dear." Christine stared at her mentor blankly. "Of course you are sweetie. Now how about that horsie?" 


	2. The Nightmare of the Alcoholic Orange Ju...

CHAPTER TWO: THE NIGHTMARE OF THE ALCOHOLIC ORANGE JUICE  
  
Raoul stared down at his letter. He read it aloud. "Dear Mantrap? It would seem Monsieur Firmin has mistaken me for Monsieur Andre. He looked up from his letter, and then poured himself some orange juice in to a shot glass. "Yum yum. I don't know what my mother and father saw in alcohol." He quickly sucked down the juice. The patron's eyes widened. "OK.no more juice tonight." He put down the glass and looked back at the letter. Raoul sighed. No one ever sent him mail, except for Christine on certain occasions. He flicked through his two remaining letters. "Junior maths club invitation . . . interesting . . ." He laid the letter down to the table beside him, then looked at the final letter. "Fop Brain?" His smile faded when he noticed the red ink on the note. Raoul grabbed his letter opener and attempted to spin it around, only to see it spin out of his hand and slam straight in to a rat. Raoul jumped and cried like a school girl. "Ew! Get it away! Ew ew eeeeew!" He hopped on to his chair and covered his eyes from the dead rat. This went on for several minutes.  
  
"Dearest Andre, you simply must take a look at this dreadful letter from the Opera Ghost." The two managers, Monsieur Andre and Monsieur Firmin sat, at different ends of a coffee table in their small, and though it makes me shudder to say it, cosy (shudders) office. "My Dear Firmin, please read it to me." Andre smiled and began to speak.  
  
THE LETTER  
  
Dear Andre,  
  
Rehearsals seem to be going well. This is glad to see. I am sure that the crowd will love the love story of Figaro. I believe Mozart and I have a lot in common. But to be honest, the author and I cannot be bothered to go in to matters such as those.  
  
THE INTERRUPTION OF THE LETTER  
  
Andre paused. "Monsieur Firmin, who is this 'author' fellow? One of our Phantom's friends?" Firmin just made a strange motion with his hands and uttered "please carry on."  
  
THE CONTINUATION OF THE LETTER  
  
As I have assumed, the lead role of Susanna, maid to Countess Almaviva, will be played by Christine Daaé. As for that.thing, Carlotta, she may play a slightly minor role. I am thinking along the lines of shall we say Peasant Girl 1? Use who you want to play Figaro, that is not a concern to me. One last thing Monsieur's, I await my salary. Your confirmation letter shall be sent by post. By the way, on a personal note to yourself and Monsieur Firmin, I was watching you for a few minutes while the last rehearsal was taking place. And may I say you thoroughly sicken me.  
  
Your Obedient Servant, O.G.  
  
THE END OF THE LETTER AND THE CONTINUATION OF THE STORY  
  
Andre tucked the letter in to a draw on the old chestnut drawer labelled 'Friendly Neighbourhood Opera Ghost.' The drawer was crammed with letters from the Phantom, from the very early days of the Opera House's former owner, Monsieur Lefèvre. "Well Firmin, what do you say to that?" The two managers took two huge breaths, and began to launch in to a musical number:  
  
FIRMIN: Dear Andre what a splend-  
  
(He is elbowed by ANDRE)  
  
Andre: Wrong number you naughty little man  
  
(FIRMIN raises an eyebrow)  
  
FIRMIN: It's really not amusing! ANDRE: I don't think I like your tone!  
  
FIRMIN: And in addition you start shouting!  
  
BOTH: Don't make me get all angry on your arse!  
  
(They attacked each other and begin rolling around on the floor in a vicious catfight)  
  
Suddenly, Raoul burst in through the door to the shock of seeing the two managers, rolling around on the floor together. For a minute he was sure he saw a smile on each of their faces. Then they noticed Raoul's presence. Immediately they both jumped up from the floor. Andre straightened his tie quickly and Firmin brushed himself down thoroughly. "M-m-monsieur Changy!" stuttered Firmin. "What a pleasant surprise!" said Andre, showing extremely over-exaggerated happiness to the fop. There was a silence for a moment or two, during which Raoul combed his hair in the mirror. The sound was then broken by the annoyingly high voice of Raoul. "Please don't stop" he said brightly. "Don't let me spoil your fun!" Firmin looked down at his shoes and Andre turned away, embarrassed. "So.monsieur what exactly is it that you would like?" Raoul smiled. "Its quite silly really, I was hoping you could tell me what this word meant." He pointed down to the letter he had received earlier. "You mean hermit?" Andre asked. "No.that one." Firmin peered over to look at the paper. "You mean ignorant?" Raoul smiled weakly. "No.that one." and together the managers said to a musical tone:  
  
BOTH: Stupid ugly muff head smelly little strange rotten screwed up FOP!  
  
RAOUL: Who sent this beastly letter?  
  
BOTH: Take a guess!  
  
RAOUL: No I really couldn't  
  
BOTH: Take a guess  
  
RAOUL: Madame Firmin? Madame Andre?  
  
BOTH: No you stupid patron fop its signed O.G!  
  
RAOUL: Ooble Gooble?  
  
BOTH: (frustrated) No no no no no it was the GHOST! 


	3. The Massacre of the Chocolates

Reviews not to impressive so far. Im going to keep trying! : P  
  
Raoul stormed out of the office, shaking like a leave. His lips trembled as he leaned back against the wall. It would seem that the walls of the Opera House were not that strong.  
  
"La la laa laaaa LAAAA!" Carlotta stood in her dressing room, looking at the mirror, attempting to ignore the small cracks. She turned from the mirror and grabbed her box of chocolates. She hadn't even for half an hour, and she was ready to shrivel up and die (despite the thick triple layer of fat surrounding her). Carlotta peeped her head out of the door, to see if anyone was coming. Then, she returned to her chocolates. She coughed, then threw her head down to the chocolates. The chocolates had no time to scream, it was already over. Like the creature from the Black Lagoon, Carlotta rose up from the massacre of the chocolates. She thought she at heard a sound. She shrugged, then moved back down to gorging the chocolates. Suddenly, there was a huge crash, and a cringing, crying ball of man. "Raoul?" Raoul stood up slowly. Carlotta waited for an explanation. "Oh! Chocolates!" Raoul rushed over to the blood bath of sweet chocolate and also began gorging. "Aaah . . . such a great, masculine man . . ." A small smile began to grow at the side of her mouth, then immediately faded. "Shame he's eating MY chocolates!" She shoved out of the way and told him to get out. Then she began her strange ritual of chocolates. She stuffed the box on her head, and did a little dance around her dressing room.  
  
Erik sat alone, his mind and spirit at rest. Ayesha purred softly on his lap. "Yes. I know sweetheart." He spoke in the voice that only his closet friends heard. His kind, sort off cuddling voice if you will. He was just about to go to sleep, when he was awoken by a screeching coming from the lake. Erik sighed, and slowly stood up and walked over to the lake. "Christine?!" The girl stood in the middle of the lake, in HIS boat! "Erik! Help! I seem to off broken your boat!" Erik raised an eyebrow. "Broke it?" Out of the corner of his eye he spotted the remains of an oar. He rolled his eyes. What had she done now? "Erik please come over! Im scared!" Erik gave her a quizzical look. "Excuse me? Scared?" Christine sat in the boat, curled up in a foetal position. "Yes! The sharks and piranhas aren't scared of you!" Erik bit his lip, trying not to laugh. "My dear, there are no fish in my lake . . ." Tears welled up in Christine's eyes. "A-are you sure?" Erik sighed. "Hold on then im coming." He swung on to the rope and made his way to Christine quickly. He hopped down in to the boat, only to be doused in water. It was then he noticed the great hole in the bottom of the boat. "Oh shit! Christine! What did you do!?" Christine looked up in to Erik's eyes with cute puppy eyes. Erik sighed again, and looked at Christine with more sympathy from before. "Christine, if you wanted to talk to me, you could have just called in to the mirror. Why did you have to come down here?" Christine thought for a minute, and then said "it's Raoul." Erik's kind smile disappeared. "The fop? Please, even think of me makes me need an anti-depressant." Christine continued talking. "He's been acting really strange lately. I think he's upset." Erik grinned, seeing the opportunity for an insult. "It wouldn't surprise me. Maybe he looked in a mirror!" Erik seemed disappointed by the insult. He'd had better. "Please Erik don't say things like that about Raoul. I do sort of love him after all." Erik scowled. "I think you had best be going back to above ground." The two had forgotten about the leak in the boat. Erik jumped up on to the rope. "Grab my hand Christine." Christine seemed terrified. "What's wrong now?" She gulped. "You wont let the sharks get me will you?" Erik couldn't help but smile slightly. "No Christine. No I wont." He helped Christine up onto the rope, and with his guidance, they eventually made it to shore. "Thank you Erik!" She kissed him playfully, then bounced out of the darkness and back in to her dressing room. However, what neither Erik or Christine noticed, was that Raoul had been watching them, his anger reaching a boiling point at that kiss. Something was going to happen. 


	4. Will You Court Me?

CHAPTER FOUR: WILL YOU COURT ME?  
  
"I never realised." Raoul lied back on his chair. "Realised what dummy?" Meg asked. The young girl brushed away a strand of hair. "I don't know why you're so depressed." She knelt closer to him, practically breathing on him. "Gosh, I would love to use my virginity to you fop. If it wasn't for Christine." Meg backed away from Raoul. "A pity fop.a true pity." She walked out, and Raoul sighed. "What in the world does fop mean? If only I could find a theseousarous." He was waiting for Christine in her dressing room, when she appeared in the mirror, Erik behind her. "First of all fop, its thesaurus, and secondly, I believe you are looking for a dictionary." Erik's sarcastic tone angered Raoul, but he would not show it. "Thank you my dear, your visit was very much needed. I shall be watching you at the next rehearsal." With that, Erik swept out of the dressing room and back down to the labyrinth. Raoul rubbed his hands together and thought to himself 'we'll see who you love Christine.'  
  
"Merci girls. Such an improvement. I am very proud. Except for you." Madame Giry stood on the stage, ending her dance rehearsal. She had picked out one of the dancers, not because she was upset, but because she simply hadn't shouted at anyone lately. "Yes you! You were crap! Come here girl." The young dancer stumbled over to her. "Madame, please what was I doing wrong?" Giry bit he lip. She hadn't thought of that. "You . . . had a lazy pair of eyes. Yes that's right. Stupid, ugly girl! You don't deserve to be in this ballet!" The young girl ran off stage in tears. She ran down the corridor where the dressing rooms were.  
  
Raoul had been sweet taking Christine for a good ten minutes. But all she did was tell him to back off and could I have some water. Finally Raoul decided to go for it. "Christine Daaé, will you-will you-" Christine grew impatient. "Will I what?!" Raoul blinked, and gulped. "Will you court me?" Christine stared at him in shock, as did the ballet dancer outside the dressing room. "Will you WHAT me?" Raoul smiled weakly. "Will you court me?" Christine stared at him open mouthed. "First of all, pleeease just call it sex! And hell no!" Raoul drew back quickly. "N-no?" "You disgusting little freak! Get out, get out now!" She slapped him hard across the mouth, and ushered him out of her dressing room.  
  
During the time she had been watching, the ballet dancer had called a few of the girls over, who in turn had got some of their friends, and the same with them, and them, and pretty soon, the majority of the Opera House staff were stood outside the room, looking in through the windows, which Raoul foolish forgot to pull the blinds over. As Raoul was ushered out, he was met in horror to a sea of laughter from Andre, Firmin, Carlotta, the Giry's, Piangi, Reyer, Buquet, and the chorus of ballet girls! Cries of 'loser' 'little pete,' and especially 'fop' were yelled at him. Raoul could swear he could even here Erik whisper in his ear, "narcotic fool." Raoul ran through the crowd, escaping their jeers of hate. Perhaps it was time for Plan B . . . 


	5. The Death of the Ignoramus

CHAPTER FIVE: THE DEATH OF THE IGNORAMUS  
  
Raoul sat, quietly, plotting. He sat, discontented, scrolling through the book which would firmly secure his revenge. "Gosh, this dictionary makes for wonderful reading!" Raoul exclaimed, flicking through the pages of the book. "Fop . . . fop . . ." Finally he found the entry:  
  
Fõp n = DANDY  
  
Raoul stared down at the page. "Dandy? That's it? The word that has ruined my life is dandy?!" He fumed, then flicked through more of the pages, looking for the meaning of 'dandy.'  
  
An hour and a half later, Raoul slammed the book shut, and smashed his mirror. "I am NOT a fop!" He watched the glass shatter and fall to the floor. "Those bastards will pay." He quickly returned to his dictionary to check on a few years and then sung:  
  
RAOUL: You will curse the day you did not do.all that the fop- er.Patron asked of yooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooou!!!!!  
  
With that, he grabbed his letter opener, and stormed out of his room, heading towards the Opera House.  
  
Carlotta walked along the corridors of the Opera House, checking that it was indeed, silent. There was no sign of life, all the actors were asleep in their respective beds *cough-managers-cough-no offence Raven-cough* . She quietly walked across the stage, and pulled back the curtain to reveal... a giant chocolate statue!? *don't be afraid of the author's twisted mind. Im running out of jokes* . The statue was shaped in the form of Signor Piangi, her lover (shudder). Carlotta stroked the cheek of the statue, then brought her lips towards it, and sort of . . . "kissed" it. Her kissing became more ravenous, and soon she was ripping at the statue, clawing out its eyes, chewing at its flesh (gory for a chocolate statue huh?). The fight was soon over . . . lets say nothing more. Carlotta closed the curtains quietly, and turned to see a horrific sight. Meg Giry's body, battered and bloody, lay on the floor in a twisted position, a look of terror in her eyes. Carlotta prepared for an extreme scream, but was silenced when a hand covered her mouth. "Mmph! Pmntm!" Raoul Vicomte de Changy grinned and laughed softly to himself. "Will you miss her? Dear little Meg? So innocent.so vulnerable.not that I did anything to her you understand.er.promise you wont tell anyone about this" the old Raoul said, escaping from his dark, evil persona and returning to his bright, foppish side. He quickly switched back. "You won't be telling anyone will you sweetie?" He stroked his hand against her cheek softly. "Ever again . . ." With that, Raoul thrust his letter opener in to the spine of Carlotta. She turned and twisted, as Raoul stabbed her over and over again. She froze, and fell to the ground. Raoul grinned cruelly. "How do you like me now Carlotta?" 


	6. The Curse of Writer's Block! A.K.A. The ...

CHAPTER SIX: CURSE THIS WRITER'S BLOCK! A.K.A. THE FIENDISH ACUSSATIONS OF ERIK  
  
"These two were only the first? For gods sake Christine! I did not write this!" Christine raised an eyebrow to Erik. "Sure you didn't. Just like you didn't kill Meg or Carlotta!" Erik looked at her. "Someone finally killed the Walt Disney of the Opera House?" (Yes I know he hadn't been bored yet but I have writer's block!) Christine also smiled. "Did it hurt? Er.poor, poor Meg." Christine growled at Erik. "Don't lie to me Erik, everyone in the Opera House knows it was you!" It was at this point that Erik had an extreme urge to throw Ayesha at Christine's face. However, all he really wanted was her out of his home. "Hmm.oh Christine look! It's er... some sort of cuddly creature!" Christine turned. "Where!" Erik threw her in to the boat. "Time to go home."  
  
THE NEXT WEEK  
  
The graveyard was cold and unkind. Madame Giry stood at Meg's grave, tearful. She knelt down and placed a bouquet a flowers at the gravestone. She stood meters away from Carlotta's grave, no flowers. In fact, it seemed people had kicked it. "Oh Meg . . . why did you have to go?" She broke down and sobbed. "That bastard son of a bitch! He's gone to far!!" Suddenly, there was a rustling from a small tree, in modern terms known as a bush. "Who's there?" A soft, sympathetic voice replied. "It's the bastard son of a bitch . . ." Erik emerged from the small tree. "GET BACK! YOU WONT KILL ME!" Erik removed his hat and bowed. "Madame, I can assure you I did not murder your daughter or Carlotta. Not even I could do something such as that in cold blood." Giry eyed him suspiciously. "I don't believe you" she said, emotionless. Erik sighed. "Very well Madame. Believe what you wish. However, I fear your disbelieve will only cause the deaths of others, and perhaps yourself." He walked to Meg's grave, bowed. He moved on to Carlotta's grave, spat, and then evaporated in a flash.  
  
Raoul grinned. It had felt good to end two innocent people's lives. He didn't know why. He supposed it was his only escape from his empty, if not dead sex life (seriously running out of jokes here HELP!). It was clever to pin Erik on it. He had killed twice before. It had given Raoul a rush of excitement, as he had slashed at the young girl and the fat women. Disturbingly enough, he got more excitement from the fat women (ACK!). He would kill again tonight. He decided it had been long enough.  
  
"Andre? Are you wearing make-up?" Firmin had been wondering it for a while, as he sat at his desk writing notes. Andre smiled smugly. "Maybe . . . it depends . . . do you like it?" Firmin removed his glasses and looked up from his papers. He raised an eyebrow (They do that a lot around here huh?). He smiled, and walked towards Andre, grinning broadly. Luckily, just at that moment, Madame Giry burst through the door. "Madame! Andre and I were just discussing . . . the murders! Yes that's right!" Giry, dressed in a long black dress, said worriedly, "give it up Firmin, I know what you do on Fridays. I came to tell you about the murders. The Phantom says it wasn't him!" Andre smirked. "Please Madame, we know that you would be more upset than most people, considering Carlotta had no friends. But please, everyone knows that the ghost did it!" "No you have to understand! Look, I wrote it down and everything!" She brought out a sheet of paper, and began to show it to the managers. "Er . . . Andre? Are you wearing make up?"  
  
Raoul stood outside the office, smiling, with a long length of rope in his hands . . . 


	7. The Hatred of Raoul

CHAPTER SEVEN: THE HATRED OF RAOUL  
  
A/N: I know I know. It's the title chapter, therefore it should be special. It's early, I have a hangover, and I have writer's block. If it isn't special enough . . . well . . . screw you it's my story! Joke joke.  
  
It had been shocking enough when Christine had found Madame Giry's body hanging from the coat stand, but imagine the shock she got when she found the two managers, decapitated in a drawer together. At first she got some very suggestive thoughts, but then she saw a note. It read, 'I did warn you silly people.' Christine was surprised by this. It wasn't Erik's style. Maybe he had been telling the truth . . .  
  
"Elementary my dear Watson. Elementary indeed!" "Er . . . excuse me Mr. Holmes, I fear that you have once again mistaken me for your Watson friend. My name is Bétecular, im the Opera House's auctioneer." Sherlock Holmes stopped. He brushed away the white from his moustache, and continued drinking his milk. "Indeed. I have found out the culprit of these hideous murders, and he sits in the next room." Bétecular looked eagerly. "Is it the ghost monsieur? Is it?!" Holmes smiled. "Monsieur, take a look for yourself." He opened the door. Inside, oh the eternal horror . . . in the corner stood . . . a milk bottle. "A milk bottle?" Holmes nodded. "Your telling me that a milk bottle, killed five people?" Holmes stopped for a minute. "As a matter of fact, you have made two vital mistakes in your calculations my dear Bétecular, first of all, I am not really a detective, and second, I have killed six." Raoul pulled off the mask and plunged his knife in to Bétecular's throat. "F-fop?" Raoul grinned as he dragged the knife slowly across the throat. "If you'll excuse me, I have some more deaths to plan." Raoul left the Opera House through the back door.  
  
"Erik? ERIK?" Christine called for the Phantom from behind the mirror. "Erik?" She was in her dressing room, well half in it. She jumped in shock as someone tapped her on the shoulders. Erik stood behind her. "Christine, come with me now, we are all in great danger." He grabbed her by the wrist, and sucked her down in to his abyss.  
  
"Raoul? Erik please! Why would Raoul murder those people?" She took a sip of the tea Erik had made. "Because my dear, everybody hates him! Its so obvious, why cant you see it?" Christine sighed. "Because I am a complete airhead!" The room fell silent. "Er . . . no no no . . . Christine you are very clever indeed!" Christine sniffed. "Anyway I can prove Raoul is the murderer. I saw him with my own eyes." Christine looked at him. "You mean-" Erik nodded solemnly. "Yes. I saw him kill again." They hurried off to where Bétecular was murdered.  
  
The body lay still, a small puddle of blood around it's throat. "My god. How could Raoul of done this?" Erik narrowed his eyes. "Easy Christine. He is a clood blooded murderer." 


	8. The Power of Insanity

CHAPTER EIGHT: THE POWER OF INSANITY  
  
"A cold blooded killer Erik? Raoul? But he loved me. He could never kill." Erik looked deep in to Christine's eyes. "Please Christine. You must believe me!" Christine shook her head. "I can't. It's Raoul!"  
  
Raoul watched from the rafters of the stage. He had his letter opener, still his most effective weapon. He would kill Erik, and then take Christine for himself. He sung to himself silently. "I am your patron of money . . . die for me angel of music." The insanity was growing. It was going to be a short chapter.  
  
"Erik you're starting to scare me!" He was shaking Christine by the wrists. "Please Erik. We can talk to the managers in the morning." "DAMN IT THE MANAGERS ARE DEAD!" Erik shouted. "But Raoul couldn't . . ." He looked at her. "It could Christine, and it has. Raoul has killed! Raoul will kill me, he'll kill you!" Christine shook her head in disbelief. "I-I-I don't understand. Why would he want to-" Erik stopped. "Wait Christine, do you believe me?" Christine closed her eyes and stroked her hand against Erik's mask softly. She began to cry. "Yes . . . Erik your right."  
  
Raoul stared opened mouthed. Tears began to appear in his deep dark eyes (no jokes here folks). "That bitch. That bitch aligning herself with that masked freak (ooh that'll get me some angry reviews). I'll kill them. I'll kill them BOTH!" He looked up and saw something. A shining, shimmering, chandelier. How ironic. He slipped his knife out and carefully crawled towards it.  
  
"Thank you Christine. Really thank you. That was all I asked of you. To believe me. Nothing more." Christine cried louder. "Erik . . . Erik I love you." She embraced him softly, and kissed him gently on his mouth. Breaking the kiss, Erik, in a moment of unusual kindness said, "I love you to Christine." She cried again, and as Erik ran his hand through her hair, he whispered, "Christine hush now, im here. Everything's safe." Suddenly, the peaceful air was smashed by a high-pitched, hate filled cry. "DO YOU REALLY THINK SO?" Raoul was cutting the supports for the chandelier to pieces. Erik looked up, and watched in horror as the supports snapped, sending the light straight for Christine. "Christine! My angel!" He gulped, then ran towards Christine, frozen in fear, and shoved her out of the chandelier's path. As she fell to the ground, Erik just had time to see the chandelier racing down to meet his chest. For a moment there was silence, followed by the most terrible scream. Erik opened his eyes wide, as a blinding pain flashed through him. He flayeled his arms around helplessly, for any way of help. Christine rushed to him immediately. "Erik! Erik NO!" Erik's hearing was weak. "C-Christine?" She stroked her face once again against his skin. "Please . . . don't be sad . . . thank you . . . for everything you did . . . I love you." His vision went white, then darker, darker, gone. "NO!!!" The Phantom of the Opera, Erik, Christine's one eternal love, was dead . . .  
  
"Well my dear, im very sorry you had to see that!" Raoul jumped down from the shadows, and down to centre stage. "And I fear, my dearest Christine, the killing can not end with that. You must die to." Christine stood up from where Erik's body lay. With a hard face she shouted "no! Enough of the lies Raoul! No more killing! No more evil! No more insanity! No more hate!" Raoul grinned. "And what, pray tell are you going to do about it airhead?" Secretly, Christine reached for Erik's body, and slowly took out his Punjab. "What am I going to do?" She grinned, then viciously swiped (if that is the right way to describe it) at Raoul with the Punjab. He grabbed his sides in pain, as the Punjab lasso tied him up. She was glad she had paid some attention to Erik. She spun Raoul towards her, grabbing his knife at the same time. When the two were face to face, she whispered in his ear coldly, "the question is fop, what are YOU going to do about it. Die you murdering bastard." With that, she forced the knife in to his stomach. Raoul's eyes opened wide in pain. He hit the ground, blood flowing from his stomach. "I love you Christine . . ." He spoke. She spat on him. "Just shut the fuck up." With that, he died. Christine left Raoul, and walked over to Erik. She couldn't believe it. Dead. He was the true angel. What was life without him? She knelt down to Erik, kissed him softly on the forehead, and removed his mask. She placed the mask gently beside Erik. He would never need it again. She took one last look in to the lifeless eyes, one clear, one charred. It didn't matter to her. "I'll see you soon my love." She quickly plunged the knife in to her own stomach, and as she fell on to Erik's stomach she said, "there is no Phantom of the Opera. There is no mask. There is Erik . . . the man . . ." She died . . . . . . . . .  
  
THE END . . . . 


	9. Author's Notes

THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA:  
  
The Hatred of Raoul, "Notes" and "Tales from the Crypt of Writers Block."  
  
George Smillie  
  
Dear Author, Just a word of warning. Don't screw around with me from now. I shall take my revenge if you write some more. I truly find, the Hatred of Raoul which you have very proudly written has received some mixed reviews and I am truly out of character once more!!  
  
Your reluctant "friend," ERIK  
  
The note I would imagine from Erik should he be able to read the 'Hatred of Raoul.' Perhaps not so many 'mixed' reviews, but I have often wondered of changing it, or at one point deleting it! But I enjoyed writing it. Most of the time. Apart from the start. And some points in the middle. And at the end. Er . . . included in my notes is the long lost Epilogue, long lost because I thought it sounded funny.  
  
THE EPILOUGE:  
  
"Its cold up here . . . I want your cloak . . . where's my hairbrush?" Raoul whined, pouting on a cloud in a white robe. He looked across to the other cloud to see Erik and Christine, kissing gently and embracing constantly. Erik broke the kiss. "Shut up fop." He threw a dart at Raoul's face. For the fifth time in the eternal day, Raoul ripped the dart out of his eye. "Stop it!" A sly smile spread across Erik's face as he returned to Christine. He pulled away the red curtain on their cloud. Raoul sighed. It was going to be a long eternity.  
  
Pretty short huh? OK im going to level with you. It wasn't long lost, I just made it up write now. Heh heh heh. Oh what's this? *Picks up letter.* Red ink . . . great.  
  
Dear Author, Did I not just warn you? Or possibly you have gone blind. If you tangle with me only one more time, you will find, that heaven isn't all its meant to be! Your angry "friend" ERIK  
  
OK . . . that's not a good thing. Er . . . and now on a final note, I hate Raoul. I truly truly hate him. That should get me in the Phantom's good books . . .  
  
(Suddenly, ERIK's voice is heard out of nowhere)  
  
ERIK: I have a name!  
  
Er . . . yes Erik's good books.  
  
ERIK: And I don't have a good book!  
  
Uh . . . but of course. And anyway, on a final note . . . *looks around nervously* a beautiful organ piece written by myself. *wanders over to organ, and begins to play loudly and terribly* Been a while since I've practised. Hang on, is that a chandelier flying towards m- *SPLAT!!!*  
  
And now, my special thanks go out to all the people who reviewed, but especially to Juliette, who helped me with a lot of my ideas. Also thanks to the horrificly slow, but eventually efficient, system of FanFiction.net  
  
And as for Erik? Im going to write more! And there's nothing you can do about i- *Is squished by a giant chandelier. Suddenly, Erik's evil laughter emerges from nowhere.*  
  
ERIK: Heh heh heh heh . . . . MWA Ha Ha Ha Ha Haaaa!!!!  
  
THE END, NOTHING MORE! 


End file.
